there is life in the desert I hear. really amazingly beautiful and necessary life that appears in moments of desperation or utter joy. after a heavy abundant and rare rainfall, or at the moment when nothing seems capable of life.
when I read about the hard state of things in loved ones lives I want to offer so much. today. I want to walk out of a barely begun trip into my desert and offer solace, compassion, or a back to lean against. but instead I’m going to take a deeper breathe and keep putting one foot in front of the other. 3 steps at a time I hear. I’m going to sit in a body still weak and thin from high fever and the stomach flu. intaking bare necessities to keep going one step further. it seems appropriate.
at the end of this journey there will be a table laden with all the things I haven’t had. a coven of comrades. a gathering of true family. chocolate, wine, my grandmother’s cooking. and I’ll reach past it all. picking up a pomegranate. having earned it’s jeweled treasure. having walked past my desire to love all others more than myself. past the moments of weakness and large and scary fear. past supposed tos, shame, guilt and dejection, past my lofty ideas of Who I Was Supposed to be. away from the imaginary master of my own hell and into the return of the spring of myself.